


Crushes on Omnic Monks

by MedicDuFresne



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8742394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedicDuFresne/pseuds/MedicDuFresne
Summary: Carlos is reeling from an altercation with a strange omnic. Instead of being pissed, he may have developed a crush on an omnic that he doesn't even know the name of and who looks like a monk. It's been a strange week.





	

**Author's Note:**

> dibsonmehhh's tags on a comic about a confrontation between Zenyatta and the Los Muertos omnic inspired this work. I love their art a lot so I wanted to give back in the only way I can.
> 
> As far as I know he doesn't have a name so here I am making shit up.
> 
> (here's the comic and the tags)  
> http://dibsonmehhh.tumblr.com/post/153738832556/kochei0-he-believes-that-by-forming-people

Carlos sat with his crew, reclining back against the worn sofa letting the chatter of the room drift around him as he spaced out. He was still thinking about that damned omnic he met earlier in the week. Sometimes he swore the wiring under his jaw twinged from some ghost input when he thought about how the fragile and outdated looking omnic nearly laid him flat on his ass from an expert kick to the jaw.

 

The more Carlos recalled the omnic though, the less he thought fragile and outdated were words that really suited the out-of-place omnic. Simple maybe, without much of the standard armor plating that came on omnics these days, but there was an elegance about the small frame that Carlos couldn’t quite put his finger on.

 

And how he had stood up against Carlos with no weapons in sight preaching about peace where it did not concern him, rather than the annoyance Carlos expect to feel he was more impressed than anything. Crazy little sonofabitch, he’d give the strange omnic that.

 

For what felt like the hundredth time that week, Carlos wanted to kick himself for never catching the other omnic’s name. He hadn’t even thought about it in the moment, too focus on taking his wounded pride away from the omnic monk (at least he acted like a monk, Carlos was still unsure if that was the truth of it).

 

“Yo, C man, you aight there? You’re a fucking space case today, amigo,” Carlos was shaken from his thoughts when a pool cue was dropped in his lap, Silvia looking down at him expectantly, “You forget you were gonna play me today or something?”

 

Carlos grabbed the cue and stood, giving his crewmate a smooth shrug that he hoped was convincing, “Course I didn’t forget, I was just giving you an out in case you didn’t want to lose your winning streak.”

 

The noise in their backroom of the club rose as members cheered and booed, throwing down money for bets as Carlos setup to start the game. He laughed and fist bumped Silvia to start the game. As he leaned over the edge of the table to break, his thoughts drifted back to the strange omnic. Carlos lined up his shot but all he could really think of was how cute the omnic has been when- wait what?

 

Carlos’s processors stuttered for a second, his cue twisting the the side and sending the cue ball spinning off to the side, no where near it’s mark. Cute? Where the hell had that come from? He straightened and stepped back from the table, handing the cue to someone else, anyone else and manage to mumble with only minor static distortions in his voice, “Need some air.”  
He pushed through his crew and out through the back door, letting the cool air wash over his servos and calm him down. He could feel the pounding of the base from the club in the front of the building through his fingers against the rough brick. It grounded him.

 

Cute. He thought the strange omnic that kicked him in the face while he was conducting business was cute. Did he? He had to, otherwise he never would have thought it so unwillingly as he had. 

 

Fuck.

 

Carlos ran his hands down his faceplate. Perfect, just what he needed.

 

\--  
After a week of whining about the mysterious cute omnic to his girlfriend, Carlos finally saw him again. He had all but given up hope at ever finding him again when Carlos rounded the corner on his way back from the store and stopped in his tracks. 

 

There he was, playing football with children around a fountain. The sight made his internal processors whir with warmth, tracking the omnic’s every movement as he kicked the ball back to the children and laughed. Oh that laugh. It was the purest, most genuine laugh Carlos had heard in what felt like years and boy he knew he had it bad.

 

Unwilling to miss his chance, he shifted his bags of groceries onto one arm and walked towards the fountain. He felt strange, hoping so badly to appear non-threatening, “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

 

The kids immediately stopped their play and Carlos could hear fearful whispers of Los Muertos as they all scattered into the nearby allies, years of self-preservation lessons taught by their parents outweighing whatever loyalty they had to the other omnic who had just been playing with them.

 

The monk stood tall, not an ounce of fear or suspicion in his stance. He didn't back away as Carlos approached, rather he raised his hand and give him a small wave, “Greetings, I hope you did not have business with the children, I think their mothers all just called them home just now.”

 

There was a hint of amusement in his voice and that nearly killed Carlos but he resolved to keep his cool, “Do you remember me?”

 

“Of course,” the monk replied with a small dip of his head, “how is your jaw? I hope there has been no lasting damage for that was never my intent.”  
Carlos chuckled and felt a twinge of satisfaction when he saw the other’s head tick to the side as if the monk had not expected that response, “Nah. I’m good. You’ve got one hell of a kick though.” He held out his free hand, his cranial lights brightening, “I’m Carlos.”

 

The other accepted the handshake, his own grasp gentle against Carlos’s grip. “Zenyatta. I am pleased to make your acquaintance on better terms this time.”

 

Carlos beamed, his processors fluttering, “Sorry about threatening to sell you for scrap, I gotta keep up a certain act when dealing with customers.”

 

Zenyatta hummed, seeming to appraise Carlos, “All is forgiven, though do not think my ability to defend myself or others diminishes with friendship.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Carlos’s internal processors definitely didn’t stutter at being called a friend, no not at all. “Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the getup?”

 

Zenyatta looked down at his clothing, as if he was considering his own appearance. Carlos thought it was goddamn adorable.

 

“Ah, I suppose I am looking a bit worse for wear these days. Apologies, I spend my days traveling and I often lose track of the state of my clothes,” Zenyatta replied while picking at a fraying end on his clothing.

 

“No no,” Carlos hastily replied, not wanting to seem like he was insulting Zenyatta’s clothing, “it’s not that. You just remind me of those monks that have been appearing on the news recently, the Shimali or something like that.”

 

Zenyatta’s light laughter surprised Carlos and he could feel his crush grow by the second. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to hear that laughter more.

 

“Quite perceptive I see,” the humor in Zenyatta’s voice was addictive and Carlos was quickly becoming an addict, “I left the Shambali a few years ago to pursue more personal connections. I believe as they do that change can happen, but it is through the individuals who we touch that the ideals truly spread.”

 

Zenyatta looked up at Carlos and any reply that he might have had died. He actually was a monk, and Carlos was lost in the irony. He, a bloodied member of one of the most influential gangs in his country, was tripping over himself over the affections of a monk who preached peace and equality for all. What a fucking mess he was in.  
“Your mind wanders far, perhaps we have acquainted ourselves at a poor time,” Zenyatta gestured at the groceries on Carlos’s arm, “would you like some assistance with those?”

 

“Yes! Ah, I mean, yeah sure if you’ve got nothing better to do.” Smooth, way not to sound too eager, Carlos scolded himself. 

 

Carlos handed over one of his bags. To his surprise, the oversized mala that rested at Zenyatta’s neck rose into the air and slowly started orbiting the smaller omnic. 

 

He must have sensed Carlos’s confusion as Zenyatta hummed and nodded up at the floating orbs, “What, did you think one well placed kick was my only form of defense?”

 

Carlos laughed and started walking, feeling giddy when Zenyatta fell into step with him, “Nah, I figured you had some other tricks up your sleeves. Or pants, I guess.”

 

Zenyatta’s orbs flipped over once in their rotation as he chuckled, “So it seems. Do you live far from here?”

 

Carlos shook his head and pointed to an apartment building a few blocks away, “Nope, home sweet home is just a bit up this road a bit.”

 

They chattered about anything and everything while they walked. Zenyatta asked questions about the area and Carlos’s life and Carlos asked him about his travels. It was the most normal Carlos had felt in a long time. He couldn’t help but notice the looks they got as they walked down the street. This was a Los Muertos controlled neighborhood, but his own tattoos marking his as a member of the gang kept anyone from approaching them.

 

He was insanely grateful that Zenyatta did not bring up his gang, or why he was with a gang that almost specialized in the brutalization of their kind. It was a long, complicated story, and one that Carlos didn’t need Zenyatta to hear, not if he wanted a chance with the other omnic.

 

When they got to his apartment building, Zenyatta handed back the grocery bag to Carlos, “It was been wonderful to speak with you, my friend. I trust that our paths will cross again someday.”

 

Carlos’s processors seized at the thought of losing Zenyatta so soon after finally getting to know him. “Would you like to stay for dinner,” he blurted out, desperate for more time with the monk, “I was going to make dinner for my girlfriend, and I have a pretty good selection of alloys for us. I just got this bottle of organic oil that I’ve been dying to try, we could pop it open together. I’m sure my girlfriend would love to meet you and-”

 

Zenyatta’s lovely, floating laughter and a hand on his shoulder shut Charlos up as he realized he was rambling, “Peace, my friend. I would love to stay for dinner, it has been far too long since I enjoyed meal with good company. You honor me with your invitation.”

 

Carlos felt like he could float away, his systems whirring from joy, “Awesome, ok, yeah. Well come on up, Rosita should be home from work by now.”

 

“I am delighted to meet her, here let me take the bags so that you have free hands to unlock your doors,” Zenyatta offered as he took the bags from Carlos’s arms.

 

“Thanks, let me get the door for you. It’s the staircase on the left, also,” Carlos opened the door for Zenyatta, watching the smaller omnic as he walked through the threshold of the apartment building. Movement behind him caught Carlos’s attention as he looked over his shoulder and saw two members of his gang standing across the street watching him.

 

Unwilling to let their threats ruin his high from Zenyatta, he gave them a noncommittal shrug and closed the door behind him. He looked up the staircase as was treated to a perfect view of Zenyatta’s ass as he walked up the stairs. Carlos blessed his incredible luck then followed after Zenyatta, eager to spend more time with this incredible omnic.


End file.
